He snatched the shirt meant for morning from the bed and pulled it over his head.

A shirt hanging over the back of a chair swings, rippling, pulled to and fro by invisible hands.

At one point, his shirt pulls open to reveal a white, grizzled chest.

Her shirt pulled tightly over shoulders rounded and upper arms flattened with muscle.

Her hands scrabbled at his back, pulled his shirt free from his trousers.

The suckers were eating him where his shirt had pulled out of his pants.

The Chief's blue shirt pulled tight at the buttons, creating little strained smiles of flesh between them.

When he moved, his shirt pulled in a way that showed a gun in the waist of his pants.

Robert sauntered across the clearing, britches already undone and shirt pulled from them.

Richie's shirt had pulled out of his pants.